Almost had it all
by CopperSun
Summary: Isabel nurses a Roman solider back to health, not knowing it's really Arthur of the round table. They fall in love but when Arthur meets the beautiful, strong and courageous Guinevere will the love Isabel and Arthur share last?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm just posting the proluge and th first chapter to see if anyone's interested in it. Whether I continue with this story or not will be based on the responses. I'm personally not sure whether I like it or not.

Part One

_Proluge_

Arthur grinned gaily and waved to Bors, who was being soundly chastened by his woman on his way out of the tavern. Bors made a show of pointedly ignoring him, and grabbed Annor mid sentence, silencing her with a kiss. Arthur laughed as the crowd whistled heartedly.

"Sir, your horse." A timid stable boy interrupted his laughter and Arthr turned to his war house, _Kynagos, _and swung onto the saddle.

With a nod to the stable hand he pushed the horse into a canter and checked his pack making sure he had his missive. Normally, Arthur did not take missives, as he was a Knight of the Round table, not a messenger but this one was a sealed missive for the Pope himself, and the woods and rocky cliffs were dangerous for those who did not know their way or could not fight their way through.

The knights had offered to go with him, but it was only a three day trip and they had just gotten back from a two year mission. They deserved the few months to unwind before they had to escort Bishop Germanus to the Handrian Fort. Lancelot had been the most vocal about his disagreement of Arthur going alone, but Arthur had silenced him letting him know that Lancelot, especially, had to stay behind in the event they were sent on another mission. Someone would have to lead the knights.

"Arthur!" A familiar voice called from the crowd and Arthur turned his horse around to see an arm biding him to halt. Arthur reluctantly dismounted and lead his horse over to where Tristan was leaning casually against a stone wall, an expectant look on his face as he ate an apple.

"You needed something?" Arthur already knew what Tristan was going to say but thought it best not to let on, for Tristan would take that as little more than assent and acknowledgement that he needed an escort.

"Are you sure you do not want one of us to come with you?" Tristan questioned in a voice that made it clear that Tristan thought that Arthur needed someone to come with him, and only his pride was keeping him from admitting it.

Arthur bit back a snort, and kept his face perfectly composed, "Alas as weak, untrained and untried in battle though I am, I think I shall be fine delivering a message on my own, and I thank you for your concern."

Tristan shot him an irritated look as he pushed off the wall, "If you get yourself killed, Arthur, do not say I did not warn you."

Arthur nodded gravely, "I shall keep that in the forefront of my mind, thank you, Tristan."

Tristan threw the apple core at Arthur as he remounted, but Arthur caught it mid air, and threw it back at him. Tristan ducked and the apple sailed smoothly over his head, smashing into a window, sending shards of glass crashing onto the crowd below who immediately started to look around to see the offender. It didn't take long to figure out the two guilty figures were Knights at the round table and those who weren't as easily intimidated by status glared at them.

Tristan and Arthur quickly straightened to their full imposing heights, and tried to look as intimdating as possible while they were holding back laughter and stared the crowd down until they turned away with a few mutters.

With a nod to Tristan, and before he could voice any objections, Arthur rode off in a full gallop, only slowing long enough for the gate to open.

"Just you and me now, _Kynagos_." Arthur told his horse.

He made the three day trip to Olicanu in just over a day and a half and dropped off the missive for the messengers to take to the Pope. He was leading his horse through the unstable rocky cliff when he first noticed something was off. For a moment he stilled and then threw himself to the ground, but an arrow still made it's way into his arm.

_"Kynagos, go!" _He yelled to his horse, just as a fiery arrows rained down upon them. The rocks were beginning to slip and he slid down the cliff wall with them, unable to stop the momentum.


	2. Knights come at night

Chapter one

_Knights come at Night_

Isabel was sleeping peacefully, until the sounds of banging and scrambling awoken her. Groggily she sat up, and a glance outside the windows comfirmed that it was still dark out. She sighed, wondering if she would ever get any sleep, from the sound of it, it seemed as if the servants were determined to keep her awake for the rest of the night.

The door to her bedchamber was thrown upon to reveal her father. He was wearing his day clothes, so he was obviously just getting in and his dark hair was loose and wild around his face.

"Isabel, make haste readying yourself. You are needed." Her father voice called, with an urgency Isabel wasn't used to hearing. By the time Isabel got over her shock at being addressed in such away he was already gone.

Isabel got up and quickly put her slippers on, throwing her dressrobe on over her nightdress. After a second of indecision she reached to her bedside table and grabbed the long dagger with a leather hilt that, in the unlikely case that the town was being invaded by the Woads.

Isabel walked through the stone hallway and down the third floors curving narrow the time Isabel got to the second floor the house was in a flurry of motion, almost every torch in the entire house was lit and people were walking around quickly and purposely.

Isabel grabbed the wrist of a passing servant girl, "What is going on?"

The young girl shrugged slightly, "I know naught mistress, other than your father found an injured solider and brought him back here."

"A Roman solider?" Isabel asked to clarify and the servant girl shook her head. "I do not know, mistress."

Isabel nodded already deep in thought. If the man was not a Roman solider then she was unsure of whether her father would have brought him back here. Rarely was her father given to sentimental bouts, and never for anyone who wasn't either Roman or a child.

The servant girl cleared her throat delictaely and Isabel belatedly realized she had not released the girls hand. With a sheepish smile Isabel let go and stepped back so she could get through the doorway, that Isabel had been blocking with her body.

After the servant girl walked past, Isabel stood there mentally debating whether to look for her father on the second floor or the bedrooms on the first floor. Deciding that her father would most likely put a wounded man in a downstairs room for easier transport, she walked to the first floor at a quick pace.

Apparently she was right because when she reached the only non-servant bedchamber on the first floor she saw her father directing servants.

She still wasn't sure what exactly this had to do with her, but she doubted she would be able to go to sleep regardless of what her father wanted, what with all the noise the servants were making walking around.

Isabel had always had trouble sleeping when people were up and about, always feeling as if she was missing something. Her father called it 'not minding her own' and she supposed he was right because Isabel hated being left out of anything almost as much as she hated knowing that she didn't know something.

"Father, you called for me?" She asked after her father was finished giving orders for herbs, hot water and new clothing. Isabel's nose twitched in disgust as the smell of infected wounds, blood and sweat hit her nostrils.

"Come in Isabel. " He said absently as he began kindling the fire. Isabel stepped further into the room until she was standing almost beside her father, and raised an eyebrow trying to convey her need for an explanation.

Her father, as always, ignored the look until he was ready to begin speaking. When he did so, it was with even tones that gave nothing of his mood or motives away.

"The local healer has apparently gone to a neighboring village to visit her relative. I need you to nurse this man back to health." He told her and Isabel inwardly sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was leading.

"hm.." She made a noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement. Her father shot her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was doing and didn't appreciate it.

"Which means your the only one capable of this sort of healing." He told her.

Isabel looked over at the man laying on the bed. His armor and sword were leaning against the wall and his chest was bare. A wound stretched from his waist line to his ribs and an arrow was still sticking out of his arm. The jagged cut was easily the most infected wound Isabel had ever seen and she had to look away quickly.

"Father, can't mother do it?" Isabel asked grimacing. Isabel would be the first to admit that blood and puss made her squeamish.

To be honest many things made Isabel squeamish. If she even thought about where meat came from or how it was perpared and cooked she wouldn't be able to eat it, so although she was a decent healer having studied healings and herbs for years, she could never actually become a healer.

"Your mother's workin' in the tavern Bel. You'll be doin' this whether you want to or naught." He told her sternly.

"Yes, sir." She responded, knowing just by the tone of his voice and the look on his face that he didn't want to hear any of her arguments and that even if she spoke them, it wouldn't change a thing.

Her father smiled slightly, most likely happy that she hadn't decided to be 'difficult' which is what he called herself, and her mother whenever they argued with him. Isabel didn't mind being called difficult, knowing that if her father was a lesser man, he would beat them for not obeying immediately.

"Good. The servants will bring ya some herbs and hot water. You can have one of them sit with him once your finished for the night." He said already striding out the room.

"Great." Isabel muttered.

Moments later servants entered carrying clean towels, dagger, needles and thread along with countless herbs. Four more servants entered with water so hot that it was still boiling. Isabel nodded approvingly and opened a window, hoping the the wind was heavy enough to pull fresh air into the room.

"Torin, I will need you to stay and hold him down in the event he begins thrashing." Isabel called.

Torin, a young man of twenty summers, tall and wiry with blonde hair and green eyes nodded, and moved to her side as a servant girl pushed a wooden desk to arms reach of where Isabel sat, placing the herbs and a small bowl of water on it.

Isabel's gaze swept over the servants, "Please close the door on the way out. I will let you know if I have need of you." She told them, indictating her desire for them to leave. They looked confused, but did as she bid.

To be perfectly honest, Isabel simply didn't want to many people watching her while she did this. She was already nervous and squeamish enough as it was without unnecessarily adding to it.

The first thing Isabel did was check his heartbeat. It was steady and strong which was a good sign.

She checked his head feeling for any blood, bumbs or bruises. Finding nothing, she sat back for a moment taking deep breaths to steady herself.

"Mistress are you feeling alright?" Torin asked, his concern visible.

"Torin, we have been friends since childhood. You are by no means required to call me mistress nor do I particularily enjoy it when you do." She reminded him impatiently.

Torin shook his head empthatically, "Properiety demands.."

Isabel cut him off, "Properiety are for those boring enough to follow it."She told him, feeling more at ease since it was Torin who was seated with her.

Torin had the uncanny ability to put her at ease by simply being there and had since the had first met almost thirteen years ago. According to everyone, including and especially Isabel's mother, it was the sweetest story to have ever been told. When they had taken three year old Isabel to the market, Torin, a six year old Celt who had been orphaned had just been caught by guards for stealing a pouch of coins, and would have been thrown into the dungeons for a few days before being banned from the town, but Isabel had taken one look at him and proclaimed him, 'Hers,' and wrapped herself around his legs refusing to let go of him.

Isabel had never gotten the details of the deal her father had worked with the guards, but Torin had come home with them, and the two were inseperable ever since. It was until Torin turned ten however, that he insisted on remaining, 'Proper' with her. Anytime the story was told, both Isabel and Torin couldn't help blushing.

It was actually Torin, who insisted he become a servant in order to pay her father back for his kindness that day and all the days since, but Isabel suspected her father looked upon him as the son he never had. Furthermore, Isabel also suspected that her father would soon claim Torin as heir to the tavern and the house.

"Dreaming again, Isabel?" Torin's teasing words brought her out of her musings, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Hold him still, please." She told him, not bothering to answer the question.

Torin held the man's arms down while Isabel reached over and grasped the arrow with both hands. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the arrow where it entered the body and snapped the top off since it wasn't too far in. The unconscious man jerked slightly but Torin easily held him in place easily.

Isabel wondered how long ago he got these wounds. they obviously hadn't been tended to, but the longer they had gone untended the more dangerous they became. Her father had pulled the man out of the river, and the water was a bit of a double edge sword. He didn't lose much blood, which was why his pulse was still so strong and the wounds had stayed clean but the water had also made the wound extremely infected and didn't allow the jagged cut to close which was both a good thing and a bad thing.

"What's next?" Torin muttered.

"I have to dig the arrowhead out." Isabel said her nose wrinkling in distaste. She looked over the daggers until she came to the sharpest and thinnest one. She poured the hot water over it, and wiped it dry with a cloth to make sure it was as clean as possible.

In order to ensure easier movement, Isabel took off her dressrobe, ignoring the disapproving look from Torin, who valued properiety as much as, if not more, than his life and climbed onto the bed.

The bed istelf was hardly big enough to comfortly fit two people, and Isabel's gown was still restricting some movement in her legs but at least her arms were free.

"Hold him tightly. I do not need him to start thrashing and die because my dagger slipped." She told Torin, who nodded.

Slowly Isabel began to work the dagger into the wound, wincing as warm blood spirted out and spilled onto her fingers. The smell was making her naseous and she tried to focus on breathing only through her mouth.

After a few moments of digging she finally got the arrowhead out. Quickly and effiencently she cleaned the wound and put the healing salve on him before wrapping his wound.

Next came the hard part. Just looking at the long jagged cut made her feel sick. Puss welled over it, mingling with blood and creating a heady stench.

She washed her hands again and slowly started squeezing the puss out of the wound. Twice she had to stop and walk over to the open window in order to breath properly. It was almost dawn before she finished cleaning and stitching the wound.

Isabel walked over to the door and opened the door. "Will you bring us a bottle of wine, and two goblets?" She asked the servant standing at the door, who nodded.

"Oh, and another chair please?" The servant lips twitched as he held back a small, and Isabel went back into the room. It was only minutes later that the servant came back in, bringing the wine.

Torin and Isabel plopped down into their chairs, sitting right next to each other. Isabel poured the wine into the goblets until they almost overflowed and passed one to Torin. He took it looking completely exhausted and Isabel didn't blame him a bit. He had been working from dawn until dawn.

They drunk for a while, not paying any attention to the time or amount of drink they were consuming.

"Who do you think he is?" Isabel asked after a while. Torin nodded toward the man's chain armor.

"He is a Roman solider, and judging by his weapons a high ranking one as well." He answered and Isabel nodded. She hesitated before asking her next question.

"Torin, do you ever wish that.." She paused mid sentence and looked away from him.

"Isabel, never have you hesitated to speak your mind, I would not encourage you to stop now." Torin said, looking a mixture of amused at her hesitancy and concerned that she didn't feel comfortable enough to speak her mind.

"Do you ever wish you had gone off to find the Woads, instead of coming here to live with us?" Isabel asked the question that had been on her mind for months now.

Torin almost dropped his goblet, he was so surprised. "No!" He said quickly and then explained. "I mean, not that I would have minded living with the Woads, or even fighting against the Romans. This is our land, and the Romans invaded it. It belongs to us."

Isabel nodded understanding his point even if she didn't agree with him.

"But my home has always been with you." He told her softly. She looked at him quizzically and he looked horrified as he realized how that sounded. Suddenly they erupted into fits of laughter.

"We've had too much to drink!" Isabel said after she got her laughter under control. Torin nodded his agreement and the both look at the now empty bottle of wine.

"Though I would have never taken you for a sentimental drunk." Isabel shot at him, and Torin scowled slightly before standing and tugging on a strand of her raven colored hair.

"You should probably go to sleep now, Torin. I'll tell the servants to inform my father you'll be taking the day off." She told him. It was a testiment to how tired he was that he hugged her and left, not bothering with any form of properiety at all.

Isabel grinned wryly and began cleaning up. Right before she was about to leave she walked over to the bed to check on her patient again.

For the first time since she arrived, Isabel looked at the man. He was tall and muscular, without being overly so and looked around six and twenty summers. His skin was slightly tanned which was surprising given the rainy weather. It was rare that the sun ever made an appearence in Briton, so she supposed he was from somewhere else. His armor was that of the Romans, and a high ranking one at that. His hair was shoulder length, black and wavy, his cheekbones were sharp and angular and for a moment she wished she could see his eyes.

Shaking her head, she wondered where exactly that thought had come from, and decided that she would only ever drink one goblet of wine at a time again, she was beginning to sound like Torin.

"I sure hope you're worth all this effort." Isabel told the unconscious man, blowing out the candles on the way out.


	3. Shades of Gray

**A/N: Let me know what you think of the characters or if Isabel is beginning to become a mary-sue. Criticism is my friend, and I'll need it in order to get better. I want Isabel to be a free thinker while still sticking to the customs of ancient rome. Let me know how I did, or if there's something you don't really like or that could be better. Thanks. **

**Chapter two**

**Shades of grey**

A fornight had passed quickly, with Isabel helping her mother with the tavern and nursing the man back to health. He still hadn't fully woken up, and had gotten a fever on the fourth day, so Isabel had to devote all her attention to making sure his fever broke.

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for days, muttering strange incoherent words that Isabel had never been able to make out. She had gotten a limited amount of sleep, and her only saving grace was Torin, who would sit with him for her while she got sleep in case there were any changes.

It was still early dawn when a knock on the door sounded. Isabel had gotten used to being bathed and dressed early enough to feed the man, having reworked her entire routine, in order to take care of the man.

"You may enter." The door opened to reveal a young servant of six and ten summers, the same age of Isabel herself.

"Mistress, Torin requests your presence in the knights room. It seems the man has finally broken his fever and shall awaken soon." The servant girl smiled at the good news and Isabel was relieved as well.

Although she had never spoken of it, or allowed herself to think about it much, she had wondered if he would survive the fever. They had all worked extremely hard to keep him alive and though Isabel would never admit it, she felt good that she had saved a man's life. Like she had accomplished something and she knew for the first time just why her mother and the local healer enjoyed healing people.

"Thank you, Dolores. I shall be down in a few." Isabel told the servant girl who smiled at her indulgently.

It was against properiety to tell a servant thank you for doing their job, but that had never quite sit well with Isabel and she had admanantly refused to follow that rule, at least in the comfort of her own home. In Isabel's thinking if the servant did a good job, shouldn't they be thanked for their work?

Isabel's father didn't protest her rather unusual treatment of the servants too much and neither did he try to silence her or make her conform to what was normal. In fact he encouraged her to do what she felt was right, something that didn't always go over well with the people of the village, who felt that her father was indulging her far too much.

It was whispered that she would never find a husband and that she was much too spirited for a woman, who should always be docile and obeident. Well, the Romans thought that. The Woads and most Briton's allowed their women to become warriors, and even if the didn't always go to battle, most knew how to defend themselves.

Torin had once offered to teach her to fight, but though Isabel's father was lenient, he wasn't that lenient and though Isabel was slightly rebellious she wouldn't go so far as to directly disobey her father. At least not without having a far better reason than, _I wanted to_.

As Isabel was entering the knight's room, she wondered for the first time if the people weren't right about her being _too _rebellious. It didn't help that Isabel actually _was _to spirited and unyielding. Isabel could not think of a single time in her life when she had meekly bowed to another if she had a different opinion and most men did not like that. The only men she would even think of yielding to was her father and Torin. In her opinion that was as it should be. The only men she truly trusted was her father and Torin. In her eyes they could do no wrong.

Deciding to ponder on such things later, she walked over to the knight. He had sweated his fever out and his skin was no longer clammy and cold. His color was finally back, but the smell of sweat, vomit and other undesirable stenches were still strong in the air, which reminded Isabel that they would have to bathe him and air the room out again today. His heartbeat was strong and looking him over, Isabel agreed with Torin that he would be waking up soon, though she doubted he would be strong enough to walk for another week or so.

"Are you going to wait for him to wake with me?" Isabel asked Torin who shook his head, already standing up and putting on his black wool cloak.

"I'm going to head over to the tarven and see if your father needs a hand." Isabel nodded and bid him goodbye before walking over to the window and opening it. She would never understand how Torin could stay in this room with the window closed, but he had a much stronger stomach than her.

Her gaze drifted back over to the knight, and she took the seat beside the bed, studying him carefully. His chest rose and fell steadily, and he looked almost peaceful, a word that Isabel had never connected with any warrior for obvious reasons.

Just as she was leaning over to check his pulse he suddenly let out a deep, shuddering breath and jerked upward, his head connecting painfully with her chin. A wave of pain crashed through her and she saw colorful spots for a moment. Her green eyes snapped up to meet his grey ones and while she silently cursed him, thinking words that should never enter a lady's mind, he looked at her with vague confusion and suspiscion.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse and he spoke slowly, as if the words were foriegn to his tongue. He held his body tensely, and his eyes were alert as he looked at her hard, most likely to assess if she was a threat.

Isabel looked at him curiously, at once feeling both like an anxious child wanting to know all about the new exciting stranger and apprehensive at this strange man who had developed a dangerous and noble air about him in the past minute. Unsure which direction she should follow, Isabel settled for something in the middle and looked as 'ladylike' and stern as she could manage.

"I am Isabel. My father found you in the river and brought you here to heal. Who are you?" She asked evenly, wondering if he would even be awake long enough to hold a conversation. She was quite shocked that he had woken this soon, he should have slept at least a few more hours.

"Ah, then I owe your family my thanks, milady. I am Arthur." His words were surer this time, though his voice was still hoarse. He settled into the bed more comfortly, apparently having dismissed her as a threat. For a moment she felt strangely offended that he didn't think she was a threat, which was completely ureasonable, seeing as she wasn't a threat.

Inwardly she screamed in pure frustration. This stranger had only been here a fornight and already he was wreacking havoc upon her thinking. She looked to his expectant gaze merely nodding and forced herself to look at him as one would inspect a unknown bug.

It was getting increasingly hard to supress the need to know everything about this stranger at once. There was something inside her practically bursting with the need to find out everything there was to know about this individual and she was having a hard time sitting still. This feeling didn't happen very often but when it did it was extremely hard to ignore.

"Milady, how long ago did you father find me?" He questioned, bringing her attention back to him.

"A fornight ago." She answered and watched him closely as his face registered surprise. He hid it quickly leading Isabel to believe that he wasn't in the habit of giving away his emotions, at least not to strangers.

"Where exactly am I?" He asked running a hand through his wet hair, looking at her questioningly.

"Agora," She said, referring to the name of the large village, that was just outside of the walls of a larger roman city that had been burned down after a fierce battle between the Romans and the Woads, which both sides had lost.

"You had a fever that just recently broke."

Even as she spoke she could see him getting drowsy. He blinked rapidly trying to stay awake long enough to get his questions answered.

"How far am I from the Handrian Fort?" So he was from the Handrian Fort. Isabel had heard tales of the knights and soliders there, potraying them as both good and bad. Isabel's father had told her enough of the world for her to know that good and evil was mostly a matter of opinion.

Isabel shrugged having never travelled for more than two days, "About seven days on horseback and much longer on foot."

His eyes were already drifting closed, and within seconds he was asleep. Isabel stared at him for a moment annoyed that she hadn't had the chance to satisfy her curosity.

The sound of a door opening made Isabel whirl around to see an older lady.

Lurna, a slender and fiery red head and blue eyes was stunningly beautiful. Easily the most beautiful woman Isabel had ever seen and until a few years ago she had been Isabel's nursemaid. She was entirely inappropiate and Isabel adored her. Some speculated that Lurna was the reason Isabel was so spirited and Isabel couldn't exactly say they were wrong.

"I thought I heard voices. Has our guest awakened yet?" Lurna asked, confusion coloring her voice as she glanced at the peacefully sleeping patient.

Isabel made a disgusted sound before answering, "He did awaken. Just long enough to get answers to all his questions and all I found out was his name!"

Lurna shook her head, "Just like a man to get his own statisfaction and then go to sleep."

Isabel stared at her old nursemaid in shock, before laughing fully as Lurna winked.

A throat cleared from the doorway and they turned Torin, looking at them with a scandalized and thoroughly exsaperated expression.

Lurna glanced at Isabel with a, 'you're on your own,' look before easily sliding past Torin and out the door.

'Traitor!' Isabel mouthed to Lurna who merely stuck her tongue out childishly before bouncing away.

"She's a bad influence on you." Torin accused, walking further into the room.

"The worst," Isabel agreed aimably before averting the conversation lest she be lectured on great virtues and other things along those lines that Torin spoke of when lecturing her that she promptly blocked out while he was speaking, "I thought you were going to the tavern?"

Torin shrugged, looking dreadfully bored, "I did, but they didn't need any help." The conversation from a moment ago was apparently forgotten.

"Have you eaten yet?" Isabel asked him, rising from her seat. Torin shook his head and they walked down to the kitchens to see if the cook had perpared anything yet.

The kitchen itself was a flurry of activity as the head cook, Chynie was directing a few servants to start perparing for dinner which was still hours away.

"Mistress Isabel, is there something I can do for you?" Chynie spoke sharply, not at all happy about being interrupted in the middle of her work. Isabel smiled sheepishly as her stomach chose that moment to growl.

Chynie laughed heartedly a sound rarely heard, for she was a harsh woman who wasn't given to bouts of laughter. Her round frame shook, and her face took on a pleasent affectionate look that made her look years younger than she truly was.

"Go head to the dinin' room, I'll have someone bring ye somethin'." She told them. She usually spoke in precise, clipped tones but on rare occasions her rough accent gave her away. Isabel had never been able to convince Chynie to tell her where she was from, and Isabel had never heard such an accent before so she didn't bother to guess.

Isabel thanked her, and walked with Torin to the dining room. They took seats opposite each other, and ate their food in comfortable silence before Isabel broke it, "Did my father have anything interesting to say?"

Torin nodded and took a swig of ale before he spoke, "He wants us all to dine together at the house tonight. He says he has an important announcement to make."

Isabel wondered if her father had finally decided to claim Torin as his heir. There had been whispers about it, and she suspected her father was merely waiting for the right time. Of course the announcement could be that her father had finally found someone foolish enough to marry her, but the thought made Isabel uneasy.

No one would actually be insane enough to take her hand in marriage, and Isabel valued her current freedom far to much to give it up for a husband, at least for the moment. She had no objection to marriage in a few years, but for now she was fine right where she was. At home, with her family not off making one of her own and everyone knew that she would need to find a husband as lenient as her father otherwise Isabel would probably be dead before the marriage was consumated.

Isabel had the rather unique and dangerous ability to infuriate people who didn't understand her eccentric views and behavior which had succeeded in making her father and Torin extremely protective of her. They would not allow her to leave the house without guards, so convinced were they, that someone would one day try to kill her.

She thought they were simply overreacting, but she never protested it. Her mother had also taught her that it was better to go along with the men she loves, because they were just as stubborn as she, and even less willing to bend when it came to her safety.

"Do you think father will find a husband for me soon?" She asked Torin, who almost spit out his ale in surprise.

Isabel frowned. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Either he was becoming more easily shocked or she was becoming more shocking, neither of which was a desirable event.

She knew that if her father was thinking of marriage for her, he would have broached the subject with Torin. Torin had never realized it, which amused Isabel to no end, but her father would often discuss family, business and money with Torin. He father had been training Torin to become the head of the family for about ten years now, but Torin had never quite caught on.

"Do you want to get married?" Torin asked, ignoring her own question. He looked at her very seriously and Isabel was worried that her father really _had _decided it was time for her to get married.

"Absolutely not. Did father mention anything?" She asked, not fully able to control the panic rising in her voice.

Torin shook his head. "No he hasn't mentioned it to me." He answered and began eating again, showing no signs of his earlier discontent. Now that the panic was gone, Isabel looked at Torin closely.

He was getting quite strange lately and she was unsure of why. To be honest, it scared her a little. For the first time since they had meet she didn't know what he was thinking or why he was acting in a certain way.

Over the years they had only grown close to the point that a single glance could say an hour's worth of conversation, and they could immediately tell when something was bothering the other. They had also grown fiercely protective of the other.

They were friends in the closest sense of the word and if Isabel had ever been asked to describe the unbreakable bond between them she would have had no words. It just _was_ and Isabel had never though to question why it was, or even what it was. _It _whatever and however _it _was just existed and always had. Though Torin vividly remembered that day in the village, Isabel didn't know what had been going through her three year old mind when she decided to _claim _Torin, and the fact that she had _claimed_ him, caused her no end of embarrassment.

As it was she had never regretted doing so, and was eternally grateful to her father for being so indulgent toward her. It was because of her father that Isabel had made a life long friend, and Isabel doubted her father realized just how much that single act had endeared him to her.

For the moment Isabel wasn't quite sure that this wasn't all just her overreacting, which she could readily admit she did often enough. It was just one of the many quirks than came with her, and most people accepted it.

Unless of course, they disliked Isabel, which was also common enough and Isabel really blame them. It was too often that she failed to make a good impression, and she usually came off looking like a wealthy, spolied Roman Lady and though Isabel never admitted it, it hurt that that was what many people thought of her.

"Did you find out anything about the man?" Torin asked, bring Isabel back to her current surrondings.

"Not very much. His name is Arthur and he either lives, works, or is visiting the Handrian Fort." Isabel told him. She watched Torin's expression turn thoughtful.

"What is it?" Isabel asked, pushing her plate in front of her, already full.

"The current leader of the Knight's table is a Roman named Arthur?" Torin asked and Isabel laughed.

"You think this Arthur and the other are one in the same?" Isabel asked doubtfully. Torin shrugged and leaned back in the chair.

"He could be." Torin insisted and his eyes drifted up as if to see through the stone.

Isabel thought back to the man's reactions and the nobility he seemed to excude effortlessly. Isabel was convinced.

"Maybe, but if he is a person of any importance to Rome, then why hasn't anyone came to search for him and wouldn't he have said something to that effect?" Isabel asked.

Torin shot her a look that asked if she had suddenly lost all the intelligence she had previously possessed, "Maybe they don't know _where _he is and why would he tell random people who could very well be enemies who he is."

"Is there any reason you are so convinced that he's _the _Arthur?" Isabel asked, wondering at his insistence.

Torin's face became expressionless. It was a look that Isabel had come to recognize as the one he wore when he decided a conversation was over and one he rarely used with her.

"No reason, just a feeling." His voice was even flat and just as Isabel was about to speak again he spoke, "Don't forget about dinner tonight."

Isabel sighed as he stood up and bowed once before walking out.

"That was interesting." Isabel muttered to the empty room. She decided that eventually they were going to have a serious conversation about just what had been bothering him these past couple of months. He wasn't behaving as usual and after this she was sure she wasn't overreacting.

As for the moment, she needed to check on her patient before listening to the servants gossip. They would be sure to know what her father's annoucement would be and Isabel wasn't known for her patience. Informing her there would be an annoucement at dinner was as good as telling her to find out what it was _before _dinner.


End file.
